


Edging the Risk

by Rubynye



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Clothed Sex, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Kink Meme, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-26
Updated: 2013-03-26
Packaged: 2017-12-06 13:57:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/736457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubynye/pseuds/Rubynye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dwalin gave her all she asked, as she had always known he would.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Edging the Risk

"There is no time," she hissed, "no time at all," even as she lifted herself onto the ledge, even as she hooked her boots behind his thighs. "Come here."

Dwalin looked at her as if he would object, but Dís wriggled her hips in an enticing undulation, and he came to her, bracketing her in with his mighty arms, kissing her as unyieldingly as a stone. She threw her arms around his stout neck and hoped the burn in her lips was a bruise, dragged on him till he fell on her like a rockslide, his hard body crushing her to the hard stone wall. Combed and braided and richly attired, Dís Daughter of Thrain Son of Thror, sister of his sons Thorin and Frerin, begged with moans and hands and wanton writhing for her oldest friend to take her, to dishevel and use her, and Dwalin gave her all she asked, as she had always known he would.

That was until, his hands curved beneath her bottom, her skirts rumpling over his thighs, he froze suddenly, and tore his mouth from hers to press their brows together. "Dís," he whispered, his eyes dark as unlit caverns, "Dís, you will be Queen here, Dís, I cannot --"

"Yes, you _can_ ," she insisted, throwing one lapis-beaded boot onto his shoulder. "I want to feel you within me, Dwalin. I want to hold you as deeply as I may."

"But --" He pried his hand off her skin, the handprint throbbing against the chill stone, and laid that broad rough hand softly upon her cheek. "If you catch --"

"I know from whose blood I must." The Line of Durin must endure, she thought bitterly, and as she arched herself against his chest, tilting her chin up until he fell into another kiss, she slid her hands down the hard planes of his back and into the pockets of his jerkin, searching for a telltale smooth round. Finding her prize she drew forth the salve, pulling her mouth from Dwalin's to order him, queen to general. "Here, slick yourself." His eyes went wider than they had in many a year, as she swung her other boot upon his other shoulder, digging her heels into fur and armor, as she tilted her mouth into a sly mirthless smirk, hiking her skirts up to her belly to unveil herself. "I'm ready for you."

"Dís," Dwalin sighed, his smile edged with pain. Her heart cracked anew, and she reached up to wreathe him in her arms again, but he shied back from another kiss to protest, "Will you be able to breathe?"

Not blood but fire surged in her heart then. "Do I ask for breath?" She threw her head back, the stones and wires of her coronet clacking against the wall. "I want you." She gripped his head between her palms, his tattoos beneath her fingers. "Dwalin. I want you."

Sighing, he gave in, just as she knew he would. Staring into her eyes, he slicked himself; curving one broad hand to her lower back as he pressed the other to the wall, he pushed his hips forward, nudging her arse. If they'd been in a bed, if they'd had time… but there was none to be had, and Dís hissed between her teeth, forcing her eyes to stay open against the twinges as Dwalin slowly exhaled a hot breath, even more slowly pressed into her, filling her up with weighty heat. 

When their bodies thumped flush they both breathed, gasping over each other's mouths. "Move," she ordered, and crushed their lips together, drawing his tongue into her mouth, rolling her hips into his thrusts, riding the ache as each stroke lifted it towards pleasure. She pulled one hand from his scalp to stroke herself open, running her fingers between her nether lips, brushing deep tingles into her pearl in time with his steady swift pound. Again and again and again, as white heat built behind her eyes and Dwalin's mighty frame shuddered beneath her hands.

At last the fire flared over, sweeping all other thought away for a moment, high and thrumming and only for a moment. Dwalin groaned deep in his chest and Dís pushed herself harder now, gasping as she drove towards his pleasure, until he leaned entirely on her and she could get no air indeed, folded up and pressed between his solidity and the wall's. Just as she'd wanted.

Too soon, before her head had even really begun to whirl, Dwalin pulled back from the kiss, and, after another few breaths, all too carefully from her body. He kissed her booted ankles and lowered her feet, looking upon her as he set himself to rights; Dís shook out her skirt as if the ledge hadn't pressed a hard line into her tender arse, and tilted her face up to attempt a smile, breathing hard through her nose.

But her ribs shivered within her, as if she could still get no air, and when her lips parted it was in a gasp, in a sob. Dwalin wrapped both arms around her, pulling her to him once again, and she buried her face in his shoulder, hiding her tears in his fur collar. 

Dís had set such a fur-lined mantle upon Thorin's shoulders before he departed. Now he wore instead the Arkenstone on his breast, in the tomb where he lay forevermore, his sister-sons, her Fili and her Kili, lain forever at his feet. 

Now she breathed deeply of Dwalin's rich musk, and stopped her tears, and lifted her head to try that smile again. Now she succeeded, and though Dwalin didn't smile back, a line or two smoothed from his forehead. "Thank you," she told him, folding her arm through his for support as she shifted off the ledge onto her feet. "Now I'm ready."

Dwalin ran one palm gently over her piled braids, tweaking the coronet back into place. Warm now beneath her long cool gown, Dís held her head high as Dwalin son of Fundin escorted the Princess of Erebor into the presence of her cousin Dain, King Under The Mountain.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Hobbit Kink Meme, to these two lovely prompts:
> 
> "[Dís/Dwalin -- No time for niceties, just up-against-the-wall-and-spread-'em sex.](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/5821.html?thread=12675773#t12675773)" & "[I don't care who, I don't care why or when, just some het couple having anal sex](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/5821.html?thread=13354941#t13354941)"


End file.
